The wondrous

What would you make,

The luminous, magnificent,

The wondrous of our world.

Of this,

This life that echoes from

Wall to

Dusty wall and provides

Succour and relief to

But a few.

A life that remains filled

With love and with

Living and with

Joy, hope, kindness

Curiosity.

What would you make

With shimmering life

A beacon, blazened high above.

I guess you'd make nothing,

Wouldn't see its rich tender,

The first sips of dew in the

Morning.

Nor would the lazened furl

Of the days ripened sweetness

Taste so clean or so clear

For rich palates.

You'd look and not see,

In your grandness, your glory,

Set for sights that

You feel

Only you see.

Yet your view is bright screaming

And it's plain and it's boring

And it's hew fast compliance to

A worldview.

A worldview that is blind to

All but the most basic,

The most starkly outlined version

Of living.

For within this inferior overlooked

Lays subtle and lies nuance

Simple joys that cost none and

Yield riches.

Of the bird, lazy morning,

Insistent breeze tugging quietly,

Of the feel of bare feet on the ground,

The scent and the buzz of the

Flowers and the wonder at

Something missed, but not quite,

And new rediscovered.

For it's joy and it's light and it's life

And it's loving that I do 

When I close out

The babble.